


not your typical game

by sugarcubeshiro



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Autistic Keith (Voltron), Demisexual Keith (Voltron), First Kiss, M/M, Making Out, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Season/Series 07, Sparring, the timeline is vague but post canon with no s8 ofc, then lots of fluff/happy feelings, tiniest bit of hurt for two seconds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24079000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarcubeshiro/pseuds/sugarcubeshiro
Summary: “You’re telling me that I do win?”“Shiro.” Keith glares up at him. “Don’t be a dick,yes,you win.”Shiro only smiles wider, bright and happy, and tilts his head while looking down at him. “So what’s my prize?”“What?” A startled little laugh leaves Keith. “Since when do we play for prizes?”“Since today,” Shiro says casually, his eyes twinkling. “Just now. When I won. Because I want a prize.”
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 313





	not your typical game

“I win,” Shiro says and smiles down at Keith pinned beneath him on the floor.

Keith does his best to gain control of his breathing, unsure if it’s coming out ragged because of the sparring they’ve been at for who-knows-how-long now or because of their current position.

They’re both panting and flushed after a hard workout, which is something Keith usually appreciates. Few people other than Shiro tend to make an even match for sparring sessions, humans or otherwise. But after Keith dodged a kick and had to try to find his footing, Shiro had finally managed to get the upper hand on him (pretty literally; floating piece of _junk_ that his Altean one is, Keith still hasn’t gotten a handle on outsmarting it). Shiro twisted Keith’s hand behind Keith’s back, put him in a headlock, then slammed him down onto the gym mat. Keith didn’t even have time to catch his breath from where he was staring up at Shiro before Shiro sat down, straddling his hips. Grabbing Keith’s wrists in his Altean hand and pinning them in place above Keith’s head, Shiro smirks down at him.

And the fact that now _that_ is Keith’s current view... that might just be the main reason for the whole ‘ragged breathing’ situation.

Keith swallows thickly.

Then he steels himself, trying to regain at least some of his composure in his compromised position. “Oh, really, huh—you _win?”_ he says, aiming for nonchalant as he lifts an eyebrow. “I don’t remember yielding, old man.”

He smiles teasingly, but freezes when Shiro shifts on top of him. Settling his weight down firmly, Shiro leans forward and plants his left palm next to Keith’s face before leaning down a little further.

Keith blinks rapidly, lips parting in wordless shock at Shiro hovering above him, face-to-face.

“You really think you can get out of this one, kitten?” Shiro murmurs with one corner of his mouth quirking up.

_“Kitten?”_ Keith barks out a nervous laugh in surprise. “What the fuck, Shiro?”

“You’re like one.” Shiro grins, sounding far too self-satisfied and amused. “An angry little kitten, growling at me. You don’t even know it just makes you look _cute—”_

Keith’s mind blanks.

‘Cute’.

Shiro just called him _cute._

But Shiro’s also got that stupid grin on his face. Struck speechless and pinned in place beneath his massive body, Keith still quickly shoves his flustered feelings to the back of his head, overcome by the need to wipe that smug expression off of Shiro’s face. He kicks his legs, trying to find a weakness in Shiro’s hold—to lock his legs around Shiro’s hips instead. He squirms, trying to get out to—

And it’s no fucking use.

Keith realizes how completely stuck he is about the same time it dawns on him what a horrible idea it was to wriggle around like this. Shiro chuckles at his futile attempts and shifts back a little to press Keith’s hips down, ending up with his ass _right on his goddamned crotch._

Keith chokes down a noise and goes completely still.

Fuck.

Oh, god.

This day is really, _really_ not shaping up to be anything at all like he had planned.

It’d started out awful right away with him sleeping through his alarm for the first time since he can’t remember when, after spending last night listening as Veronica presented a long list of men to Shiro who she thought he should go out with. If Keith had cried himself to sleep like a lovestruck, heartbroken teen after Shiro had agreed to narrow it down to three guys and promised to consider asking them out, then—well. No one can prove that, anyway.

Then he had to run drills with the MFEs on an empty stomach while still tired, grumpy, and suffering a little lingering heartbreak. Usually Griffin’s insults aren’t as much ‘insults’ nowadays as competitive teasing between two people who are maybe-somewhat-friends, but it still managed to get on his nerves today, and the fact that Keith let it get to him only made him feel even more pissed.

At least he had something nice to look forward to after lunch, though.

Or so he’d thought, since Hunk had promised to come with him to shop for a new dog collar and bed for space wolf. Keith told himself he might even buy the wolf another chew toy, both to spoil his wolf and to treat himself to some retail therapy. Except it hadn’t taken long for what should’ve been a fun afternoon of catching up with one of his closest friends to turn into a hostile interrogation, as Hunk not-so-subtly said that he’d like to talk to him about Keith’s feelings for _‘a certain someone’._

_“Now, I’m not going to name names, Keith,”_ Hunk said while standing with his back straight, staring solemnly at a pink dog leash. Keith furrowed his brows before Hunk’s posture deflated like he was holding in a horrible secret and then he turned to Keith, looking all wide-eyed and guilty. _“Actually, it’s Shiro. I’m talking about Shiro. You know, the guy you’re desperately in love with? That guy? Yeah. Oh man, you are_ so _into him, aren’t you? I swear, everyone can tell—”_

Keith had done the only reasonable thing in response: he promptly spun around and started to walk away.

Hunk had hurried after, but not to apologize or promise to drop it.

_“It’s not very healthy to always keep bottling up your feelings about this, Keith, buddy.”_ Hunk kept poking him about it while Keith tried to weave through the aisles in the pet store and plan his escape route. At least it was a small store, with thankfully no other customers in there. _“And now after last night, we all finally agreed it’s time to just tell you that you can at least talk to_ me _about it—”_

_“‘We’?”_ Keith hissed, his cheeks going red from both anger and embarrassment as he turned back to face Hunk. _“You_ all _finally agreed, Hunk?”_

_“Y-yeah,”_ Hunk stammered. _“You know. Me, Allura, Pidge, Lance. Your friends—”_

_“Friends don’t talk shit behind someone’s back, Hunk!”_

_“Talk shit? Keith, no one’s been—”_

_“I’m not in love with Shiro!”_ Keith all but yelled at him.

_“Keith, alright, take a breath, buddy—”_

_“No,_ you _take a breath,”_ Keith said through clenched teeth. _“Even if—even if I was, even if I’ve—had a big fat gay crush on him ever since I was a teen, so what? How the hell would that be any of your business? What do you even want me to tell you? That—that, yes, I’m in love with him? That he’s my everything, the love of my life and I’ll love him until the day I die, and—bla, bla, bla, yeah, all of you are right? Congrats, you got me! You figured it out. Are you happy now?”_

_“Keith, I’m—”_

_“I fucking_ know, _Hunk, alright?”_ Keith’s voice cracked pathetically as he clenched his fists and glared down at the floor. _“I’m not in denial or whatever, but he—Shiro doesn’t love me back. Not like that. So maybe I don’t_ want _to talk about it, or even think about it, because it’s fine. It’s all_ fine, _I’m happy to have him as my friend, and—and did you guys ever think about that while sitting around doing your stupid gossiping?”_

He didn’t give Hunk time to respond before he’d turned around again, finally bolting out of the store.

As soon as he’d hurried away, he called for his wolf, still upset and hurt as he got teleported to the safety of the Black Lion. He felt the thrum of Black rumbling a question in the back of his mind, but Keith assured her that both he and Shiro were fine. He sighed and slumped back against the wall, then slid down onto the floor. Stretching out his legs in front of him, Keith stared at his own feet as his bottom lip started to wobble again.

He _was_ fine, though.

Seriously. Even with tears streaming down his cheeks and the wolf sniffing at his face in distress, licking at the corners of Keith’s eyes, he was _fine._

Stupid, aching hurt in his heart or not, Keith was—is, has always been, will always be—fine with Shiro not loving him back the way Keith loves him. Keith’s completely okay with his love being unrequited, has accepted that he’s doomed to be alone forever, to live without the one person he’s ever wanted in the ways he wants Shiro. He keeps his romantic feelings in the deepest corners of his mind, tucked inside a dusty old storage room where they can stay ignored until he can finally forget about them. Hopefully before Shiro goes on dates and gets a boyfriend and then gets married, like he deserves to.

Despite the crying, Keith had already made plans with Shiro to meet up at the Garrison’s gym later, and he’d quickly pushed away any thoughts of cancelling. Surely not letting his own feelings get to him is the first step in proving how absolutely happy he is to be nothing but _friends_ with Shiro.

Plus, Hunk might have actually been right about one thing. It isn’t very healthy to keep things bottled up. Which made working his anger and frustration—and maybe, reluctant as Keith is to admit it even to himself, his heartbreak—out by spending a whole evening wrestling with his best friend suddenly sound like an excellent idea.

He really hadn’t taken Shiro winning said wrestling and straddling Keith while all sweaty and gross and gorgeous into account.

Clearly, Keith is a clown.

“Shiro,” Keith says with his heart in his throat. He clenches his jaw.

Shiro lets out a low little laugh, and Keith can only hope Shiro thinks he’s scowling because Keith’s a sore loser.

“You got something to say for yourself, Keith?” Shiro says, doing his best to arrange his expression into something serious.

Honestly, there are so many things Keith could say.

Most of them would amount to some variation of _please don’t move while sitting that close to my dick, thank you._ Or maybe _please do move while sitting that close to my dick, thank you,_ if he gives voice to his actual deepest, thirstiest wishes.

They’re both equally bad ways he’s not supposed to be thinking about his best friend, though.

Instead he glares at Shiro again, trying to convey a threatening kind of energy to keep Shiro sitting still—or if there is a god and said god is good, even make him move away—without Keith being forced to beg for it out loud.

“No,” Keith finally grumbles.

“You seem a little unfocused today, buddy,” Shiro says, still looking far too pleased with himself.

“I told you. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Shiro hums. “Right. Wanted to get straight to business and knock me on my ass instead. Doesn’t seem to have worked that well in your favour when you’re not focusing, though, hm?”

Keith does focus, then—he focuses really, _really_ hard again on making Shiro move away from straddling his lap by sheer will and brain power.

Of course, nothing happens.

Shiro keeps looking down at him with his smug little smirk in place. The only mercy is that he doesn’t move at all, but while it’s a good start, Keith also can’t have him _staying there_ on top of him all day—no matter how nice it might sound to Keith for his own personal reasons. ‘Mixed emotions’ doesn’t even begin to sum up what he’s feeling right now. Sparring with Shiro has always been a very particular kind of blissful torture, one Keith usually doesn’t want to get out of. By now, though, he needs to. And soon. Or things will get incredibly embarrassing fast.

“Alright,” Keith lets out a deep sigh, “what do you want?” 

Clearly Shiro must have some reason for keeping Keith pinned down with his big (big, big, _big—_ god, Keith can’t keep thinking about this right now—) body like this.

“Oh, I think you know what I want, Keith,” Shiro says with a dark chuckle, leaning in just a little bit closer.

_What the fuck?_

Keith stares up at him with wide eyes. “Uh,” he starts, his brain scrambling to make sense of what he just heard. Then he blinks, trying to sound indifferent when he mutters, “Okay. Fine.”

Because, yes—Keith does know.

If he actually uses his brain and doesn’t let his dick get affected by Shiro’s deep voice, of course he knows what Shiro wants. He makes a show of it as he relaxes beneath Shiro, looking off somewhere over Shiro’s shoulder so he won’t have to deal with staring up at his flushed, beautiful face anymore.

Hopefully his own red cheeks can be explained by the exertion and general aggravation of losing their drawn-out sparring session. It shouldn’t be a stretch, since Keith _does_ hate losing.

“‘Okay, fine’ what?” Shiro says.

Keith looks back at his face, furrowing his brows. “What?”

The hold on Keith’s wrists squeezes just a little bit tighter. “I said, ‘okay, fine’ _what,_ Keith?” Suddenly Shiro’s voice is all low and demanding, making Keith blink up at him owlishly. It’s the voice Shiro uses when he needs answers; when he needs to be listened to. When there’s no room for debate and he needs people to know who’s in charge. The expression on his face matches it too—authoritative and commanding, almost stern. The way Shiro looks and sounds to make it clear to everyone around him that for all his politeness and general aura of a caring sweetheart, he’s still fully aware of and confident in his own abilities, and he expects to get what he’s asking for without objections.

It’s the way Shiro most often looks and sounds in Keith’s mind when Keith’s alone and got his eyes closed with one palm clamped over his own mouth, his other hand circled in a tight fist around his dick, imagining what it’d be like to get fucked by him. Or fuck him. Whatever Shiro would prefer, really. Maybe Keith’s even dreamt of Shiro using _that_ voice while telling Keith how he wants him.

Keith fights back the sudden, overwhelmingly embarrassing urge to part his lips in a whimper.

A red face while they’re working out is hardly something one has to try wave away with some complicated lie. Keith moaning, though, and a rock-hard boner poking at Shiro’s ass? Probably not as easy to blame on Keith being a sore loser.

_Unsexy thoughts,_ Keith quickly tells himself. He squeezes his eyes shut to ground himself and get away from Shiro’s intense gaze.

_Coran with a bugger in his moustache._

_Lance’s worst flirting attempt, directed at Keith himself._

Although, witnessing Lance’s flirting isn’t even that bad anymore. If anything it’s actually kind of sweet, ever since he seems to have developed a mutual affection with—

Keith sucks in a sharp breath as Shiro fucking _shifts_ on top of him. It’s subtle, ever so slight, but Keith’s already hyperaware of every place their bodies are touching and he desperately tries to think of something—anything—to make himself less turned on.

Maybe a mixture of things?

Lance flirting with him while sporting a huge, vintage-styled, ginger moustache that’s covered in food goo and—

_“Keith.”_

Oh god, why does Shiro have to _use that voice?_

Keith has to answer already to make this stop. He takes another deep breath and looks up at Shiro again, forcing himself to focus enough to form a coherent sentence.

This is Shiro, after all.

Shiro, who loves to win and hates to lose just as much as Keith does. Keith knows just what Shiro is waiting to hear—what he wants and why he’s being such a little shit about this.

“You got me, Captain,” Keith huffs, ignoring his useless brain trying to convince him to blurt out a low-voiced and husky, _“I submit, Sir,”_ before he’d rock his hips up.

The worst part of even thinking about those things is how his body reacts to it, though. A hot swoop low in his stomach, his pulse speeding up, Keith’s fingers wanting to flex in Shiro’s grip and his tongue dart out to wet his lips. As if putting a lid on his feelings for Shiro for years only to reveal them like they’re in some intro to a tacky porno would be the greatest idea _ever_ put out there in the universe.

Evidently Keith has managed to reach a new level of being both pathetically in love and horny at the same time, and he should probably seek help.

But today, after first crying his heart out alone and now finding himself pressed so close against Shiro, it’s all a little too easy for the want in his heart to bleed through. For those silly fantasies that he tries so hard to keep under wrap and locked away to slip under the cracks of a place in the darkest corner of Keith’s mind. He’s never managed to keep that place too secure, anyway—it’s so easy for the smallest thing to jostle that door open. How much he loves Shiro will always outshine Keith’s insistence that it doesn’t hurt not to have him.

Shiro’s still staring down at him expectantly like he’s waiting for something else, something more, and Keith’s mouth goes dry.

It doesn’t matter how many times he sternly tells himself that friendship truly is the most wonderful thing in the universe. Keith _wants_ Shiro, more than he’ll ever want anyone else. But he also needs to learn to fucking live with that, because Keith knows damn well that life doesn’t hand you things just because you might want them.

Finally getting a grip on himself—metaphorically speaking—Keith takes another deep breath. Then he shuffles his upper body a little in an attempt to get Shiro to move, one last act of defiance as he strains against the arm keeping him firmly held down. A movement that should be safe, since this is all ending any second now.

He knows exactly how this will go. 

“I yield,” Keith says, and looks Shiro right in the eyes.

And that’s it.

Now Shiro will ease up on his grip, move off Keith’s body, and get up on his feet. He’ll reach down a hand for Keith to take, looking incredibly pleased with himself and his victory while hauling Keith up. Then Shiro’s going to clasp Keith’s shoulder with his left hand, give it a squeeze, a touch that is more a firm caress than anything else—a platonic firm caress, though, Keith reminds his longing traitor of a brain.

Then he’ll listen to Shiro tell him what a great job he did, like Shiro always does, before they go their separate ways to shower.

Once he’s on his own, Keith will finally be able to jerk off—quick and desperate, only feeling a little ashamed about what he’s doing. All while telling himself that he is definitely not still thinking about his best friend while muffling his moans in a public shower at the Galaxy Garrison literally years after the fantasy had first snuck into his mind.

That’s how it should go. That’s how it _always_ goes.

But—Shiro doesn’t move away.

Instead he hums above Keith again, not letting up on his grip in the slightest.

“You’re telling me that I do win?”

“Shiro.” Keith glares up at him. “Don’t be a dick, _yes,_ you win.”

Shiro only smiles wider, bright and happy, and tilts his head while looking down at him. “So what’s my prize?”

“What?” A startled little laugh leaves Keith. “Since when do we play for prizes?”

“Since today,” Shiro says casually, his eyes twinkling. “Just now. When I won. Because I want a prize.”

Keith squints his eyes.

Shiro’s been acting all... not _weird,_ exactly, but—odd, ever since Keith showed up earlier. All calm and quietly amused, a small smile stuck on his face the whole time, like he’s in on a secret that no one else knows. Maybe he’s already asked out one of those guys Veronica suggested last night and now he’s got a hot date planned.

Something clenches painfully in Keith’s chest.

“Alright,” he scoffs and looks up at Shiro with another sigh, hoping his expression makes it clear that he’s only considering indulging him because they’re friends. Even if Shiro’s acting all strange and cryptic. “What do you want?”

Shiro pauses, grin still on his face.

Then he shifts again, biting his own lip, and Keith’s gaze falls down. He watches Shiro’s teeth dig into the pink plush of his bottom lip, and doesn’t realize he’s staring before it’s too late. Eyes widening, he flicks his gaze back up to meet Shiro’s, and—

Shiro isn’t smiling anymore.

Instead his mouth parts in a little _oh,_ the playful look in his eyes replaced by something intense and dark and unreadable.

Slowly, Shiro raises an eyebrow. Then he leans down, so close to Keith that their noses almost touch when he murmurs, “There’s only one thing I can think of that I want right now, Keith.”

Keith laughs.

A high-pitched, nervous, _squeak_ leaves him.

“O-okay?” Keith says, trying his hardest to sound normal despite their faces being so close and the weird tension between them. “So what is it?”

Shiro doesn’t say anything. He simply keeps looking at Keith for another long moment, before he smiles softly again.

“I want a kiss, Keith.”

“What?” Keith stares at him. “From who?”

Shiro giggles, honest to god, fucking _giggles._ Then he lifts his hand to touch Keith’s jaw, stroking his thumb across Keith’s bottom lip as he murmurs, “From you.”

Maybe Keith should laugh, too.

Maybe it’s some joke that he doesn’t understand the punchline of.

Maybe this is when he should shove Shiro off and playfully roll his eyes before they both laugh. Keith’s never been good at knowing these things. It’s been a long time since he accepted that he’ll never be able to read most people and whatever weird social rules and body language and, sometimes, sense of humor they all adhere to. Growing up, Keith always felt like the weird, outcast alien—even before he learned that he’s _literally_ from space.

There is one human, though, one person other than Keith’s father, who has never made him feel weird about himself. Who has never made fun of Keith for being the way he is, for being _who_ he is.

And that guy is Shiro.

Shiro’s never seemed to find any joy in playing mind-games with him, never poked fun at Keith’s inability to understand some things that come so naturally to others. Shiro’s never even gotten annoyed with him, never huffed and rolled his eyes and told Keith that well, he didn’t _mean_ anything by it if Keith got upset over something because he misunderstood. Shiro’s always explained stuff if he catches Keith missing out on something that everyone else laughs at, without making a big deal out of it.

So what the _hell_ would the point be of doing this, right now—even if it is a stupid joke that Keith doesn’t get—when it’s just the two of them?

“What are you talking about?” Keith croaks out.

None of this makes any sense. And even though he doesn’t get the how or the why, it must be a joke. It has to be. The Paladins are probably all crouching behind the windows right now, looking into the gym and giggling like mad, but—

No.

No, Shiro wouldn’t _do_ that, no matter what the reason for it was. There’s no scenario Keith can imagine where Shiro would do something like this just to make fun of him for it. Keith’s breath quickens because the only other explanation, the only reason Shiro would have for saying something like that, would be because he _means_ it—

“Keith,” Shiro whispers and slides his hand back to cup Keith’s jaw, stroking the pad of his thumb over the bump of the scar on Keith’s cheek. “Hey.”

Everything about him is all soothing and kind—big and broad and sweet-smiling, with his dark, beautiful eyes. Even held down and boxed in by Shiro’s whole body, if it’s with him, all Keith feels is safe. He’s everything Keith has ever wanted, the only one Keith will ever want, because the only one there is for him has always ever been _Shiro._

“Shiro,” Keith whispers back, not sure how he hasn’t passed out yet with the way he’s holding his breath.

“It was just a request,” Shiro says softly. “If you’d want it too. Not a demand.”

“Shiro,” Keith says again because he still doesn’t understand; says his name because there’s not much else he can think of.

It’s been so long since Keith resigned himself to never having a chance with Shiro and now suddenly he’s sitting on top of Keith, asking to _kiss_ him. Keith’s tongue unconsciously darts out to wet his bottom lip and Shiro sucks in a breath, blinking down at him, looking a little stunned as well.

“Shiro, I—” Keith stops, staring up at him. He really has no clue know how to breathe anymore. He whispers, “Shiro, please.”

“Yeah?” Shiro breathes out.

“I just—I don’t—” Keith tries to find the words for what he still can’t make sense of. “Why are you—”

His voice gets caught in his throat when Shiro responds by slowly, so slowly, moving down to close the final distance between them.

Keith isn’t sure if the world actually comes to a halt—if everything gets turned into slow-motion, or if Shiro’s just that attentive and apprehensive all at once, waiting for Keith to stop him—but then soft lips finally press gently against his own and Keith’s universe stops spinning.

All he knows is this moment, all he ever wants to know for the rest of his _life_ is this moment. The only thing that’s ever mattered to him is feeling Shiro’s warm breath leave him when he shifts on top of Keith, his hand fitting more firmly against Keith’s cheek before he tilts his face to the side and opens his mouth as he kisses Keith deeper.

Keith sucks in a sharp breath of his own, every muscle in his body going loose as he lets it happen. He parts his lips, moving his mouth against Shiro’s, pressing into the touch with his eyes closed.

He’s never—

Keith didn’t know. He had no idea what it’d feel like. He’s dreamt of being with Shiro so many times, fantasized about being kissed by him, being the one to kiss him, how good it’d be, but he didn’t _know._

Keith had no idea what the soft press of a mouth against his own is like. He lets out a noise when Shiro’s tongue teases at his lips and then dips between them, sliding inside and moving against Keith’s tongue.

The sound turns into a full-on whine when Shiro pulls back a little, a small string of spit still connecting them for a moment before Shiro licks his lips.

“Keith.” Shiro stares down at him, but Keith doesn’t reply or give him time to finish saying anything else. “Kei—”

He surges up and swallows his own name from Shiro’s lips, thankful they’re close enough for Keith to reach his mouth by craning his neck since he’s still pinned in place by the Altean hand.

Shiro groans in reply, a sound Keith swears he feels vibrating through his whole body, awakening something primal and heady in him. Moaning, Keith sinks back against the gym mat again, opening his mouth wider for Shiro when he follows and kisses Keith deeper. A part of him wants to tug his wrists free, grab onto Shiro’s broad shoulders so he can pull him closer, stroke his palms up and down the hard muscles of his back—another part thrills over being held down, over being so completely at Shiro’s mercy. He wants him draped across his own body, for Shiro to settle his full weight on top of him; to feel Shiro everywhere with nowhere for Keith to go.

The hand cupping Keith’s jaw slides up, up, into Keith’s hair, sinking into the strands before Shiro twists his fingers into a tight grip. Keith whines again, eagerly. Shiro’s hold isn’t enough to hurt, but it’s firm and secure as he uses it to tilt Keith’s head to the side where he wants him while moving his own mouth for a better angle. Keith’s fingers flex helplessly in the air where his wrists are pinned above his head as Shiro practically growls and then kisses Keith so good Keith’s eyes roll back.

God, he never knew it’d feel so _good,_ his heartbeat thundering in his chest with a feeling Keith can’t capture, can’t put into words, has never experienced before. Groaning, Keith tries to move his legs—to wrap them around Shiro’s waist, to pull him closer, to move them simply because he can’t keep still, _anything—_ but he’s still trapped fully in place beneath Shiro. He quickly slumps down and gives up, gives in, lets his muscles go loose with another moan, lets Shiro lead the kiss however he wants it.

Keith loves him.

He loves Shiro _so much,_ and Shiro is the one kissing _him,_ like this is something he’s been waiting on forever to do, too. 

“Shiro,” Keith moans his name into his mouth because he has to, he can’t contain it, and his voice sounds loud and desperate even to his own ears.

He’d be embarrassed if Shiro didn’t groan back, a hissed, _“Keith,”_ against his lips the only thing he says before they’re kissing again. Shiro licks his way back inside Keith’s mouth and Keith pushes into it, sucks on his tongue, eager and needy and greedy to keep Shiro there, keep them connected and joined. Keith eases back and opens up, parts his lips for Shiro to move their tongues together—kisses Shiro back deep and filthy like it’s second-nature, like he knows how to because Keith’s always been meant to do this with the man above him.

Shiro tightens the grip in Keith’s hair and keeps him in place, takes Keith’s mouth like every kiss is something precious to savour and spoil himself with, until Keith loses track of time and himself and where they are. The only thing he knows is the way Shiro’s mouth feels as it moves against his own, both of them breathless and their lips red, wet, bruised.

Gasping once they finally part, they stare at each other with heavy-lidded eyes until Shiro lets out another groan and leans their foreheads together.

“Keith,” Shiro says and Keith squeezes his eyes shut, hoping this won’t all have been a dream if he opens them again.

“Shiro,” Keith whispers and gently shakes his head, their noses bumping together before Shiro pulls back. Keith finally looks up at him, staring at Shiro’s flushed face and how his big grin makes his cheeks dimple and the skin around the thick, pale scar across the bridge of Shiro’s nose pull tight.

He’s the most beautiful sight Keith has ever seen.

“Wow,” Keith breathes out.

Shiro smiles impossibly wider, a quiet laugh leaving him and his ruffled bangs flopping a little further over his forehead. “A good ‘wow’?”

“Uh-huh.” Keith nods frantically, his breath hitching once more as Shiro ducks down to kiss him quickly. Sweet, soft, caring, before he goes back to stroking his thumb against Keith’s cheek. “Shiro—wow.”

Shiro makes another noise, caught between a chuckle and a moan—then he’s diving back in, kissing Keith properly for a long, long time, until he pulls away panting.

Keith tries to catch his breath again, his mind racing as he tries to make sense of everything, anything, that’s happened since Shiro first pressed their lips together. He still feels confused and overwhelmed and the boner issue he’d been so worried about before has not been solved in the slightest—if anything it’s gone from a potentially embarrassing situation to an undeniable reality by now. There’s no way Shiro isn’t aware of it too, but he’s being a perfect gentleman by keeping their hips far enough apart to be polite.

Keith really wouldn’t mind it if Shiro didn’t feel like being that much of a polite gentleman right now, though.

The thought makes him startle again.

“Shiro,” he whispers, still breathless.

Shiro smiles, stroking the back of his knuckles across Keith’s jaw like he can’t get enough of touching his face. “Yeah?”

“Why—why’d you do that?”

“Because I love you,” Shiro says, no hesitation, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. He gently eases up on his grip on Keith’s wrists and then sits back a little, placing both of his palms over Keith’s ribs instead.

“What?” Keith stays frozen to the spot, voice broken and shocked and maybe a little desperate as he blinks up at Shiro. He kind of feels like crying again—he still can’t wrap his head around any of this, it doesn’t feel _real,_ despite how badly he wants it to be, and suddenly Keith swears he can’t _breathe—_

“I love you, Keith,” Shiro says again, like he knows exactly what Keith’s thinking, how his thoughts are spiraling. Then he goes a little tense, expression turning serious. “I’m—sorry. Are you okay? Maybe I shouldn’t have... I mean. Was this a bad idea? Because I—”

“No!” Keith hurries to reassure him and finally lifts his arms, moving his hands down to grab the top of Shiro’s thighs. “I mean, yes, I’m fine. And you should have. I think. I just—I’m sorry, it’s—this is—it’s a lot? I thought you—I didn’t think we’d ever...” Keith trails off, closing his eyes and shaking his head to himself while he tries to clear his head. He squeezes his grip on Shiro’s thighs, whispering under his breath, “I don’t understand.”

“Which part?”

“I—everything? How—?” Keith stares up at him again. _“Why,_ Shiro?”

Shiro’s lips twitch and then another grin spreads on his face before he scrunches his nose adorably. “Because I have a big fat gay crush on you too.”

All the colour leaves Keith’s face

“What?” he whispers, completely mortified over hearing his own words repeated back to him. “Oh my god, _no,_ Hunk _didn’t—”_

“No! No, no, he didn’t. No one—” Shiro lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck before he drops it again, his cheeks going pink. “Listen, I promise I didn’t _mean_ to eavesdrop...”

“No.” Keith stares up at him with wide eyes, shaking his head as the reality of what Shiro’s telling him starts to sink in. “No, no, no—”

“But I was looking for you, because I—”

_“Noooooo,”_ Keith moans in agony and slaps both palms over his face. “No—no, _Shiro._ We were the _only ones_ in there—”

“Mm, no. Nope. Sorry, buddy.” Shiro chuckles. “I happened to walk in right in time to hear your little, um—argument.”

“Shiro,” Keith mumbles from behind his hands, still horrified, before he feels Shiro’s fingertips touch his forearms and then close around his wrists. “This can’t be happening...”

“Keith.”

“Shiro, I didn’t—”

“Hey. It’s okay, Keith.” Shiro tugs gently on Keith’s wrists, and Keith reluctantly peeks at him through his fingers. “I’m so sorry if you didn’t want me to hear about it like that, but—I promise it’s okay. Right? I love you too.”

Keith finally gives in, allowing Shiro to tug his palms away, even with his face still burning from embarrassment.

“Do you really?” Keith whispers, watching as Shiro smiles at him and then tangles their fingers together.

“Of course I do,” Shiro says, squeezing his hold on his hands. Keith swears he could die a happy man right here, right now. But god does he want to live more than ever now if this is really something he can have—Shiro looking at him with so much adoration in his eyes and Keith finally knowing that it means exactly what he’s always dreamed it would mean. “Told you, didn’t I? You’re my big fat gay crush too, Keith.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Keith groans, squeezing his eyes shut since he can’t hide anymore. “I can’t believe you _heard.”_

Shiro chuckles, waiting until Keith looks at him again. “But would you ever have told me otherwise?”

“Shiro.” Keith stares up at him. “I have told you.”

Shiro freezes. “What? No, you haven’t. I definitely—definitely would’ve remembered that, Keith.”

“I’ve told you I love you!”

“Wh—yeah!” Shiro stares at him in confusion before letting go of his hands when Keith pulls back to prop himself up on his elbows. “But I’ve told you I love you, too!”

Shiro scoots back, moving away to sit down on the gym mat next to Keith’s legs instead, and Keith sits up as well to face him.

“You never said you love me like _that,_ Shiro,” Keith says with a little pout.

“What do you mean I didn’t—? Keith. You’re the one who’s always said I’m like your brother. You _literally_ said so the first time you told me you love me.”

“Yeah, because I—but that was just—” Keith stammers. “It wasn’t exactly the time to go through the specifics when I first told you. And then _you_ didn’t say anything after that, so—”

Shiro groans, hanging his head in his hands. “Oh my god, Keith...” He snorts, dropping his hands again and looking at Keith with a flustered smile. Then he stretches his legs out in front of himself before leaning back on his palms, tipping his head back to murmur at the ceiling, “Well. Hearing you constantly call me your brother hasn’t exactly boosted my courage to plant one on you, you know.”

Keith swallows, then gets up on his hands and knees. He crawls a little closer to Shiro, situating himself between Shiro’s spread thighs, sitting back on his calves there. “First of all,” he starts when Shiro looks at him again with his eyebrows raised expectantly. “I haven’t called you my brother that many times. I’ve said it, like, twice. And I’ve never meant it literally. You’ve just—always been more to me than a friend, you know? Besides...” 

Feeling his own face heat again, Keith distracts himself by reaching up to poke a finger into the swell of one of Shiro’s pecs. It’s ridiculously sturdy. Keith licks his lips, getting caught up in simply staring at Shiro’s chest for a long moment—he wants to push Shiro’s tank top up over his abs, lean in and bite at his pecs. Prove that despite maybe calling Shiro his brother once or twice, Keith has never thought of them as _siblings._

“Besides...?” Shiro murmurs. His voice is gentle, but he’s got a knowing little smile on his face when Keith finally flicks his gaze up from Shiro’s chest, away from the distraction of his defined muscles and the dark hair there. Keith wants nothing more than to lick his tongue across it, over all of Shiro’s body, his perfect skin, get to taste him everywhere—especially like this, post workout and with Shiro smelling so _much_ of himself. A little sweaty still, but mostly a lot like Shiro, Shiro, _Shiro._

Keith can’t stop himself; he leans in and presses his nose to the curve where Shiro’s shoulder turns to neck, inhaling his scent deeply. Shiro’s breath hitches and Keith pulls back just as fast.

“Sorry!” he says, the two of them staring at each other wide-eyed. “I just had to, uh—I mean. I love you. I’ve always loved you, and I—I’ve just never wanted to make it weird for you.”

“It’s not weird,” Shiro says gently and reaches up with his left hand to stroke a thumb across Keith’s blushing cheek. Then he takes one of Keith’s hands in his Altean one, lifting it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to Keith’s palm. He murmurs there, “I’m in love with you, too. I’m so fucking in love with you I don’t even know what to do with myself most of the time, Keith.”

Keith can’t fight the happy grin spreading on his face, smiling back wide as he finally starts to feel like everything might be beginning to sink in. “Shiro...”

“I’m really sorry for doing it like this, though,” Shiro says and curls his fingers around Keith’s hand. Shiro’s palm is so big and it feels so warm and so nice holding Keith’s own. Keith angles their hands, easily fitting them palm-to-palm, then takes a moment to just watch how huge Shiro looks compared to himself, before he intertwines their fingers again.

“What do you mean?” Keith murmurs. He doesn’t know what Shiro would have to feel sorry for.

“Well,” Shiro says slowly, and Keith looks up at his face. “I had plans.”

“Plans?”

“Mhm. I mean—after I first stopped myself from having a heart attack when I heard what you were saying to Hunk, then—yeah. I made plans. That’s why I didn’t say anything. I wanted to, uh... be smooth about it.”

“Oh?” Keith laughs in disbelief, but Shiro’s face goes redder, until he’s blushing all the way up to the tips of his ears.

“Maybe—” Shiro licks his lips and reaches up again with his left hand, starting to walk his fingers up Keith’s right bicep and keeping his eyes trained on the movement as he talks. “Maybe I’d take you out to our old cliff or something. Watch the sunset together before I made a move.”

Keith’s pulse quickens at those words, like he isn’t already holding hands with Shiro, while Shiro starts stroking his fingertips across Keith’s shoulder.

“What made his royal highness of patience himself change his mind, then?” Keith says.

Shiro chuckles softly, pausing for a beat before he moves his hand to the side of Keith’s neck, sliding his fingers up across his throat to cup Keith’s chin, then pulls him closer. Leaning in to meet him, Shiro stops with their lips only a breath away, and Keith clutches Shiro’s prosthetic tighter while his stomach swoops with anticipation.

Shiro smirks, murmuring against Keith’s mouth, “Would it be too bold of me to say I couldn’t help myself when you looked so pretty beneath me?”

Keith surges in and kisses him in reply, still holding his hand as he gets his free arm around Shiro’s shoulders. Keith knows he has to be blushing like crazy again, can feel the heat on his own cheeks—he’s never been called pretty by anyone like it’s a good thing, never had anyone tell him something like _this._ He never could have dreamed of actually getting to hear it from _Shiro._

Shiro groans just as eagerly and wraps his arm around Keith’s waist, then unceremoniously pulls Keith into his lap like he weighs nothing.

Keith breaks the kiss with a loud gasp.

“Sorr—” Shiro starts, easing up on his grip.

_“No,”_ Keith quickly cuts him off and gets both of his hands free so he can grab Shiro’s face in his palms. “Still not too bold.” He kisses him hard again, slides his hands up to sink his fingers into Shiro’s bangs and grab onto his hair while pressing closer with a moan. Not caring if there’s too much tongue or teeth, Keith kisses Shiro so deep he can hardly breathe. Shiro tilts his head back and opens up and lets him, whimpering against Keith’s mouth like he’d be happy to let Keith do anything he wanted to him right now.

“Holy fuck— _Keith,”_ Shiro groans once they have to stop since, stupidly enough, they do need air.

Keith lets out a low growl, an actual _growl,_ not sure why or how or where it’s coming from. He presses his nose to Shiro’s temple, breathing him in again as he tries to calm his racing heart. “Shiro,” he says, his voice low and rasped. Shiro groans again and Keith pulls back, finally laughing in delight over the look on Shiro’s face. He slumps down firmly on Shiro’s thighs and tries his very, very hardest not to drop his gaze and stare shamelessly at Shiro’s crotch. However tempting it might be right now.

“God.” Shiro’s breath shudders out of him. “You’re so beautiful.”

Keith’s smile falls away, still shocked over hearing Shiro say something like that, before he chuckles again. “I’m all sweaty and gross.”

“Sweaty and hot,” Shiro says. “I like your hair like this.” His fingers slide back to play with the hair at Keith’s neck where’s it’s finally been getting long enough for him to wear it in a loose braid nowadays. “I couldn’t even keep myself from kissing you for a little while longer. That’s how beautiful you are to me.”

“I’m glad you didn’t wait,” Keith says, and then they both end up grinning at each other.

“Me too,” Shiro murmurs, but he lets out a deep sigh. “I just—I really did want to do this right. I don’t, uh. I don’t have a lot of experience with this.”

Keith furrows his brows. “What?”

“I mean—wooing guys, or whatever.” Shiro rolls his eyes with a huff like he’s trying to laugh it off, but his face goes red again. “Not when it—like, when it matters, you know? And no one matters to me more than you do. I just wanted to do things properly. For you.”

“Shiro,” Keith breathes out, feeling his heart melt. He tips Shiro’s face back a little, making sure he’s really looking at him before he says, “You could’ve kissed me anywhere, anytime, and it would’ve been everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“Keith—”

“I’m serious. It couldn’t have been more perfect. Besides—I know you, Shiro.” Keith smirks. “You’ve never really been all that _proper_ deep down, anyway. I like it when you do the things you wanna do. Not what you think others want you to do.”

Shiro’s face softens and then he leans in for another kiss, but Keith turns his head away.

“Shiro, wait.”

If he kisses him again, Keith doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop, and there is one thing he wants to ask first.

“What’s up?” Shiro says, furrowing his brows.

“Are we—uh.” Keith blinks as he realizes he has no idea how to say what he wants without sounding silly. But he wants to know. And Shiro’s still never made fun of him for anything. “Does this mean that we’re... boyfriends now? Is that what we—?”

Shiro laughs, but it doesn’t sound mean. “Yeah. Yes, definitely. I mean, if it’s what _you_ want, then—”

“It is,” Keith says and then kisses him again, but he manages to keep it soft and short. “And I thought so. Just wanted to make sure, because—um. Guess I also don’t have much experience.”

“With wooing guys?” Shiro chuckles and strokes his broad palms down Keith’s back, his fingertips finding the hem of Keith’s t-shirt and slipping in underneath it. He tilts his head thoughtfully. “Or boyfriends?”

“Any of it.” Keith shrugs. “Finally found out what it’s like to kiss someone today.”

“Oh.”

“That’s okay, right?” Keith tries to not feel embarrassed because he _isn’t_ embarrassed, but around Shiro—it still matters what he thinks. He’s the one person Keith has always cared what he thinks about him.

“Of course it is,” Shiro says. “I’ve never really—I mean, I’ve never wanted to, uh—assume anything. But I did mention how hot you are, right? So it’s not that I’m surprised, but... I can’t say I would’ve been surprised if it’d been differently either?”

“Shiro.” Keith snorts and looks down, going back to poking at Shiro’s pec before stroking a fingertip over the fabric of Shiro’s tank top. Seriously—he _is_ going to bite it. Before this day is over, Keith will have put his mouth on Shiro’s chest. “I’ve never wanted anyone but you.”

He glances up at Shiro, feeling his face heat again. It’s not some attempt at seduction, and he doesn’t want it to sound like it. It’s not like he’s been sparing himself for Shiro’s sake or something. Keith just means it—he’s never wanted anyone else in the ways he wants Shiro. He’s never been able to imagine letting anyone else touch him the ways Shiro does—even before today, before this, with Keith sitting in his lap while making out. Touch with Shiro has always been a comfort, something to reach for. The thought of swapping spit with anyone else makes him shudder, but with Shiro, it makes him shiver.

“Okay,” Shiro says, but his voice sounds a little strangled. “That’s—that’s okay, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” Shiro says, wide-eyed and serious. “God, that’s so okay, Keith. That’s fine, I just—you’re already doing great, and we—” He trails off, licking his lips. “I mean. I can teach you. If there’s anything—”

“Oh?” Keith lifts his eyebrows and watches as Shiro’s ears go burning red again. “You gonna mentor me through all of this, Shirogane?”

“I—no!” Shiro closes his eyes with a groan. “That sounded way better in my head, alright?”

Keith laughs and leans in, pressing another kiss to the corner of Shiro’s mouth and murmuring there, “I dunno... I thought it sounded pretty good to me.”

Shiro looks at him again, swallowing thickly. “Yeah?”

“Remember how I said I know you’re not that proper?” Keith says. “And how you used to sneak me out to teach me tricks with the hoverbike, even though we both know that no cadet should’ve been getting those kind of private lessons from a superior officer?”

Shiro barks out a laugh, surprised and flustered. “Feel like that’s, uh—not at all the same situation as this, Keith.”

“No.” Keith grins wider. “But you’ve always been such a good teacher when I’ve told you I want to learn something. And now I’m telling you I want a very, very thorough first lesson in this.”

“Keith.” Shiro looks around like they’re not completely alone in the empty gym, and it makes Keith feel suddenly bold.

“Do you wanna move things to your room?” he says.

“You sure?” Shiro studies his face, but Keith quickly nods.

“Didn’t you hear me?” He slips his hand down Shiro’s stomach, stopping at the hem of his sweatpants and stroking his fingertips across the fabric before looking up at Shiro with big eyes. “I’ve waited a long time for you.”

And okay—maybe it’s a _little_ bit of an attempt at seduction, but Shiro’s reaction is too good for Keith to stop himself, his eyes going all wide and stunned. Since it’s all true anyway, Keith’s not above using it to his advantage.

“Yeah,” Shiro nods quickly. “Yeah, and I really do wanna kiss my boyfriend in private. I mean—in a private place. Somewhere with a locked door and—” He stops his rambling only to tighten his grip around Keith’s waist, giving him no time to react before standing up. Keith muffles a surprised noise and clutches onto Shiro’s shoulders, clamping his legs firmly around Shiro’s hips.

Keith fights back another chuckle despite how breathless he feels from Shiro’s display of strength. “You—you are looking far too pleased with yourself,” he says.

“Admit it,” Shiro smirks, that smug expression on his face and darkly intense look back in his eyes, “you think it’s pretty hot.”

“No,” Keith mutters with red cheeks. “I think it’s _really_ hot.”

Shiro laughs and then cranes his neck for a kiss, both of them moaning into it until Shiro reaches the doors to the gym.

“I know I should put you down, but this—it’s is really doing it for me, Keith,” Shiro says breathlessly and pauses as he slaps the hand scanner for the doors, waiting for them to slide open.

“Shiro—fuck.” Keith twists around to look over his shoulder as Shiro walks them out into the empty hallway without loosing up on his hold on Keith in the slightest. “What if someone—”

“Shush, c’mere and kiss me,” Shiro cuts him off, angling his face up for another kiss. “I’m the Captain, I can do what I want. And even if you weren’t the Black Paladin, you’re Keith Kogane—you’ve _always_ done whatever you want.”

Keith snorts and indulges him by giving him a light peck on the lips. The brief kiss still sends shivers up his whole spine. He strokes his hands back through Shiro’s bangs and murmurs, “You asked ATLAS to scan for people and tell you if someone’s headed our way, didn’t you?”

Shiro stops walking, giggling again. “Mhm. Yep. Definitely.”

“Told you that I know you.” Keith laughs, then kisses him thoroughly this time before he nips playfully at Shiro’s bottom lip. “But you should still hurry before someone shows up.”

“You know what?” Shiro says, grinning back wide. “I think you’re right.”

Smiling, Keith tucks his face against Shiro’s neck and breathes him in while hugging him hard. Shiro hoists him up a little higher in his arms, then starts walking them down the hall towards his room.

Keith guesses he was right—this day really, _really_ didn’t turn out anything at all like he had planned.

In the end, though, that wasn’t such a bad thing.

**Author's Note:**

> tysm for reading!! & thank you to [liz](https://twitter.com/disloyalpunk) for helping me edit!
> 
> comments always make me super happy if you feel like leaving one ♥️  
>    
> [@twitter](https://twitter.com/sugarcubeshiro)


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